Cold Butterbeer
by mer solitare
Summary: One day at The Three Broomsticks in their seventh year, the Marauders make a deal- come back in 10 years for a drink. Will they keep the deal? Remus and Sirius are the main characters.


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Disclaimer: Nothing's mine folks. Me not JK. 

"Yes! First Hogsmeade weekend of the year! Oh beautiful freedom, how I love you!"

Remus, James, and Peter laughed as Sirius began to dance in the middle of the street, oblivious to the stares of passers-by. A few other Hogwarts students stopped to watch, standing next to the Marauders.

With a final flourish Sirius stopped, grinning cheekily as his audience clapped. One or two even threw a few Knuts at him. Remus rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend's antics. Panting, Sirius turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Care to dance, Moomy, ol' pal?"

Remus laughed. "Some other time Padfoot, when there's less people around."

At this James nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Moony doesn't really have any dance skills. Might scare the customers away."

Remus pretended to glare at his friends and said, "Least I can sing unlike _some_ people." Sirius turned bright red, remembering his one-time public singing-act.

"Guys, someone's gonna get our table if we don't get inside." Peter interrupted.

"Oh yeah," Sirius said. "Last one there is Snape's pet snake!" The others shuddered at that mental image and took off for The Three Broomsticks.

James, of course, won, while Peter was last. Leaning against the wall of the pub, Sirius wheezed, "Damn Quidditch reflexes." James smirked at his friend. All four headed into the pub, occasionally yelling to acquaintances as they made their way to their table. Arriving at their table, a red booth opposite the bar, they slid into their seats. As Sirius said, "See and be seen. That's my motto!"

Remus turned to Peter and said, "I pity you. Imagine being Snape's pet… Urgh. However, we'll be nice and forget that if you get our butterbeers." James and Sirius nodded, identical devilish grins on their faces.

A few minutes later Peter returned with four mugs of creamy butterbeer. Sirius licked his lips in anticipation as Peter passed them out. Grabbing his drink Peter sat down.

For a minute Remus stared at his drink, deep in thought. Then he said, "I have an idea. What if we came back here ten years from now to have a drink? Y'know, celebrate the old times." James, Sirius, and Peter leaned back in their seats, all considering Remus' idea. Then James nodded his head and said, "Brilliant. It'll be a Marauder reunion!"

Sirius leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. "Let's do it! All of us meet back here at seven o'clock on October 20, 1988."

Remus grinned and picked up his butterbeer. "A toast, then. To the Marauders!"

His three friends picked up their drinks and clinked them together, saying, "To the Marauders!"

James added, "May they live a long life full of pranks and Quidditch!"

**

Remus wrapped his frayed cloak around himself, shivering in the cold October breeze. For a minute he stared at The Three Broomsticks, remembering all his visits to the place as a teenager. He sighed and entered the pub.

For a minute he blinked, staring at the place. Everything was so different, he thought. No Marauders, no yelling teachers… It was a ghost of what it had once been. 

"Just like me," he whispered. 

Slowly he walked to the bar and leaned against it. The woman behind it turned and looked at him. Remus slid two Sickles across the counter and said, "One butterbeer, please." The woman nodded, grabbed his money, and began to fill a frosted mug with butterbeer.

Remus nodded his thanks as she handed him his drink. He turned and surveyed the room again. It was almost empty, with only one or two people scattered at various tables. Gripping his drink he headed toward his table. 

He placed his mug on the chipped surface of the table and slid into the faded red seat next to the wall. Placing his chin on his hand, he stared at the table, amber eyes filled with sorrow. He smiled as he thought of his idea for a Marauder ten-year reunion.

"Party's a bit dead," he muttered to himself. 

He pulled his drink towards himself and picked it up. His hand shook slightly, making the golden liquid in the mug slosh around. Then he raised his mug, imagining it clinking with three other mugs of butterbeer.

"To the Marauders. May they live a long life full of pranks and Quidditch." Then he gulped his drink, imagining his friends seated around him, drinking butterbeer and laughing with him. 

Then he opened his eyes, to see naught but cold, empty air around him.

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**

Hundreds of miles away, a scrawny man with matted black hair picked up an imaginary butterbeer and said, "To the Marauders. May they live a long life full of pranks and Quidditch." 

Then he laughed hollowly and toasted his cell, remembering a time of laughter, friends, and butterbeer.

A.N. I did Remus and Sirius because they are the only true Marauders still alive since James is dead and Peter is a traitor. This was inspired by Don McLean's song "American Pie." I apologize if this resembles anyone else's work. Review, please. 


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